


Graceland

by AFey



Category: Grace and Frankie (TV)
Genre: Angst, Eating Disorders, F/F, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 04:11:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12697080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AFey/pseuds/AFey
Summary: Frankie has left her for Jacob and Santa Fe.  And Grace is dealing with it in a perfectly healthy way...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song by Paul Simon  
> Set post S3  
> References to disordered eating and problem drinking but nothing graphic, nor is it the focus.

_And I see losing love_  
_Is like a window in your heart_ _  
_

_Graceland - Paul Simon_

The Hanson-Bergstein clan gather at the beach house and Grace wonders when her life became so full, yet so fucking empty. Full of people with their good intentions, but empty of light. Devoid of magic. Except of course she knows the answer. The moment Frankie moved to Santa Fe her world instantly darkened.  

It's been two months and three days since she left. Grace doesn't even pretend that she's not keeping track of the absence. It's not like the last time when she was left behind. When Robert announced his decision to leave she mostly felt disbelief and anger. This time, there's a pervasive bleakness and the fear that it will always remain. As long as Frankie is gone, Grace's life is merely a series of pointless days filled with obligations and expectations and little joy.

Today should be different. The Hansons and Bergsteins are gathered to celebrate Macklin's birthday and everyone else seems to be enjoying themselves. But for Grace it feels as if everything is happening around her, at a distance, just out of reach. Whatever she should be feeling on an occasion like this, is missing in action. After feeling too much for someone who left her, she's back to feeling as little as possible. 

Grace takes a sip of her martini and resists the urge to sigh. The need to be alone is overwhelming but as convention dictates she will not walk out on her grandson's birthday party. Not that he would care either way. She's not fun like Grandma Jean. Her presence would not be missed by him. But the adults would all notice. The adults who watch her closely. Too closely. They act as if she's now made of glass and anything could break her. They know nothing.

These days Grace is all about control. Controlling her drinking (no more 'Grace Hansons'). Controlling her eating. The energy it takes is exhausting, but it does the job. In those moments when she's focused on how much she hasn't drunk or eaten on any given day, she's at least not feeling anything. Not thinking of Frankie and all the ways she brightened Grace's life. She often thinks everything would be much easier if she'd never let the other woman get so close. Loss is so much easier to deal with when you don't have a clear picture of what you're being forced to live without.

"Did you want another martini, Grace?"

She looks across at Robert and then down at her glass which is now empty. _'How did that happen?'_ They're alone at the table, and she realises she's been lost in thought for far too long. 

"No, I've had enough," she replies, ignoring his look of surprise. "I think I'll have a glass of water, though."

"Let me get it for you."

Grace raises an eyebrow in response and then nods. She's fairly certain the offer is made to ensure she doesn't chase her martini with something other than water, but she lets it slide. It's strange he pays more attention to her drinking now that they're divorced. Perhaps knowing her relationship to alcohol is in no way related to him makes him more observant and unwilling to turn a blind eye. Trust him to be concerned when she has it all under control.

He returns from the kitchen and places the drink on the table, patting her gently on the shoulder before taking the seat beside her.

"Have you heard from Frankie lately?"

Grace meets his eyes, which suddenly seem far too perceptive. She looks away and clears her throat.

"Not in the last week or so," she replies casually, as if they're discussing the weather or some other unimportant subject. ( _It's been ten days to be exact)._

"She called us a few nights ago," he announces, matching her tone.  

"Oh," she says, trying not to convey too much interest. She reaches for the glass of water, glad to have something to do that doesn't involve looking at Robert at this exact moment. "What did she have to report?"

"Not much." 

Grace glances at him then, a small smile on her face. "That doesn't sound like Frankie." 

He laughs. "That's true. I meant she talked a lot, but didn't really say anything about her life."

She sips her drink and places the glass back on the table. Sighing, she shifts in her seat so she can look at him more easily. "You're speaking in riddles, Robert."

"Fair enough," he agrees. "Let me be clear, Grace. She asked a lot of questions but said very little about what she's been doing in Santa Fe."

"Really? Whenever I call she spends most of the time telling me how much she's enjoying her new life."

"That's not the impression we got on Tuesday night."

She has no idea if his conclusion is correct, but God help her she feels a selfish spark of hope. Maybe if Frankie is unhappy she'll return to where she belongs. Perhaps if she gets the chance again, Grace will actually tell her how she feels.

"She was probably having a bad day. Even Frankie's not immune to those."

"Maybe. But do you want to know who she fixated on during the call?"

"Bud and her future grandchild?" 

"No. Though she did regale us with suggestions for baby names."

Grace laughs. "I've had the pleasure of hearing her ideas on the subject. The names where she uses a combination of Nwabudike and Allison are my favourites."

"Oh, Sol is a big fan of those," he quietly responds. "I shouldn't be surprised of course."

Grace re-positions herself and faces the table. They sit in silence for a few moments and she assumes he's thinking about the Bergstein who stole his heart. She can't blame him now she's experienced the Bergstein effect, too.  

"Anyway, it wasn't Bud she asked about for twenty minutes."

She focuses on the glass in front of her, unable to ask the obvious question. There's only so much disappointment she can take in this life.

Perhaps sensing her reluctance, Robert continues, "she asked about you."

Grace swallows and closes her eyes, trying to get a hold of her emotions. Just because Frankie asked about her, doesn't mean the other woman feels the same way. It doesn't mean her pathetic unrequited love story is about to have a happy ending.

She flinches at the unexpected touch of his hand on her arm, then relaxes as she realises he's offering much-needed comfort. 

"Oh, kid. She loves you, too."

"Am I that transparent?" She opens her eyes and covers his hand with her own. 

"Only to me, Grace. The kids know you're upset she left, but they don't see any further than that."

"And Sol?"

"The same. He thinks you just miss your best friend."

She looks at him and sees only kindness and understanding. "How did you know it was more than that?"

"I've seen how you look when you've lost a best friend." 

"Oh," she says, still a little embarrassed that her pretence has been uncovered.

"The question is what are you going to do about it?"

"Nothing, Robert." She shrugs and continues, "she's with Jacob. I can't come between them."

"That's honourable, Grace. But it won't get you what you want."

"I know."

"So, you're just going to wait for Frankie to leave him?"

Grace squeezes his hand in gratitude and then releases it. She gets out of her chair and straightens her shirt. "I won't break up a relationship, Robert. And I refuse to be the other woman."  

She pats his shoulder and walks away, reminding herself she knows how to do this. One foot in front of the other. No looking back, no getting ahead of herself.  Just focus on what she can control and ignore everything else. It's the only way she knows how to survive.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the kudos and comments. Grace & Frankie and DWP have the best fandoms!

_I've never felt this way before_  
_Everything that I do  
Reminds me of you_

_When You’re Gone - Avril Lavigne_

Grace sits on a beach blanket and breathes in the fresh air as nightfall draws near. The weather is divine, the view is spectacular, and she’s never felt so alone. Three months. Three fucking months and still Frankie remains in Santa Fe with Jacob. So much for Robert's theory that her love was reciprocated. Hope, as she's often thought, is over-rated.  As depressing as it is, her new life - without Frankie - will have to be enough. 

Of course that idea would be a hell of a lot easier to embrace if her days weren’t filled with constant reminders of her best friend. She no longer torments herself with visits to the studio. The space is a haunting time capsule of her former housemate. The beach house itself is safer, though she still finds Frankie artefacts in the most unlikely places. Every new discovery sets off a wave of longing that threatens to be her undoing. 

The one bright spark in her life is the success of Vybrant and yet that comes with the most potent reminder of all. She always blushes at the memory of plucking the newly arrived Ménage à Moi from Frankie’s hand and going upstairs to ‘call her cousin’. It was only once she lay on the bed, preparing to test out their design, that she realised she had Frankie’s vibrator and vice versa. After that, any chance of conjuring up some fantasy not involving the other woman was impossible. Grace had imagined her down in the studio, naked, moaning in pleasure. She’d climaxed more than once fantasising about being the one to get Frankie off.

These days her fantasies tend to revolve around her best friend returning from Santa Fe unannounced. Most of them aren’t even sexual. They're simple and perfect, filled with declarations of love and commitment. Her favourite features Frankie knocking on her door announcing she’s home for good. Each time she imagines the scene her heart breaks a little bit more, the reality of it ever happening now increasingly unlikely.

Her phone rings and she ignores it. She knows it won’t be Frankie on the other end. When the other woman calls it’s always late at night, leaving Grace to go to bed with that distinctive voice prominent in her mind. It leads to pleasant dreams and nightmares in equal measure; tender sex and abandonment the duelling themes. Even so, she never fails to answer her calls. 

The phone stops its incessant noise and Grace sighs with relief. She really doesn’t have the energy to deal with anyone tonight. Today has been tough, her emotions almost getting the best of her on several occasions. Only the techniques she’s recently discovered in therapy prevented her from using food or alcohol to control and soothe the pain. It’s hit and miss, but at least today has been a win of sorts - she’s neither starving or drunk.

Grace picks up her phone and gets to her feet, then reaches for the blanket and shakes off as much sand as possible. She folds up the blanket, places it underneath her arm and in the dimming light walks briskly towards the house. When she catches sight of the hose, the urge to wash away the sand is hard to fight. In the end her need to cleanse herself is overshadowed by the words, ‘ _we’re in a drought, Grace.’_ She groans and sits on the sun lounge, placing the blanket and phone beside her, before grabbing the nearby tin of baby powder. It’s a completely inefficient way to carry out the task, but to do otherwise feels like a betrayal.

She finishes rubbing the powder on her legs and feet, places the tin beside her and uses a towel to wipe off her hands and lower limbs. As she rises from the lounge her phone starts up again and this time she looks down to determine the caller. It’s Bud, which is unexpected. Though he was instrumental in healing the post-gun rift with Frankie, they’ve never been close. She can hardly blame him - ‘easy to like’ is not a description many people apply to her. 

Grace reaches for the phone and places it in her pocket, letting it ring out as she heads into the house and moves towards the kitchen. Ignoring her curiosity about the call, she washes and dries her hands and then opens the fridge to contemplate her dinner options. With only herself to worry about, she can’t be bothered making anything elaborate so settles for a simple chicken salad.

As she gathers the necessary ingredients her phone interrupts the silence. By now Grace suspects her ring tone is the most annoying sound in the world, edging out the sound of Frankie’s snoring. She hurriedly places the items on the kitchen counter, closes the fridge door and plucks the phone out of her pocket. Again it’s Bud and she answers it in exasperation.

“Hello,” she says in a clipped tone.

“Grace,” he replies, his voice somewhat distant, “it’s about time.”

She rolls her eyes, but keeps her frustration under control. ”How can I help, Bud?”

“It’s Mom. She’s in hospital.”

Grace feels her knees go weak and grabs a hold of the counter to steady herself. “Was it a stroke?” she blurts out. A major stroke event has been her fear ever since the night of Robert’s community theatre debut. 

“God no, Grace. She’s having back issues again.”

“For fuck’s sake, Bud,” she yells, standing up straight. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack? Because that’s a very real possibility.”

“I’m sorry,” he replies, with believable sincerity. “I’m driving out there and thought you might want to join me.” 

“That’s around thirteen hours non-stop. Wouldn’t it be easier to fly?”

She hears him clear his throat and waits impatiently for a reply.

“Well, the thing is,” he pauses and then continues in a hurry, “Mom’s leaving Santa Fe as soon as she’s able to travel and she wants me to bring her stuff back.”

“Oh,” Grace responds, incapable of anything more eloquent. 

“She didn’t explain her decision, but she insisted I bring you along.”

Grace would much rather travel alone by plane than endure an awkward road trip, but since Frankie requested it, she relents. ”Did you plan to go tonight?”

“I’m fifteen minutes away. We can leave as soon as you’re packed.”

“I’ll be ready by the time you get here,” she replies and hangs up without bothering to say goodbye.  

Grace places her phone on the counter and rushes upstairs to pack. Even if the circumstances aren’t ideal, she’s excited at the prospect of seeing Frankie again and more than curious about why her best friend insisted on her presence. Even though she knows better, she can’t stop the feeling of hope that rises to the surface. It’s almost overwhelming in its intensity. She prays to God, to Frig, and the universe in general that it’s not a mistake to indulge the feeling.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grace and Bud are on the road to Santa Fe....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My, Goddess. I started this chapter over a month ago....(apologies to anyone following it)

_But I wish I was there with you_  
_Oh, I wish I was there with you_

_Homesick - Dua Lipa_

Grace sighs as she sits at the dining room table. Her suitcase and handbag wait by the door, the house is secure and the kitchen is once again pristine. When fifteen minutes stretches into thirty, she remembers yet again why most of her adult life has involved not relying on other people. Every second that passes is an act of torture, keeping her away from her best friend. It’s not lost on Grace that just a few years ago absence from Frankie was her preferred state of being. Now the pain of separation is a constant companion, heavy to carry, especially tonight.

Unable to stay still, Grace gets out of her chair and starts pacing around the living room. Her phone is grasped in her hand and remains stubbornly quiet, her calls to Frankie unanswered and unreturned. She can’t help wondering if the silence is deliberate or merely a sign that Frankie is sedated and unable to respond. Either way, she feels completely helpless. Stuck in La Jolla with no idea how the other woman ended up in hospital and no way to take charge. In the dark, with no control. It’s a scenario manifested straight from her nightmares; a test of her resolve not to subdue her unruly feelings with dry martinis or shots of vodka.

Her phone rings and her initial elation fades as she notices the caller. Grace doesn’t bother with polite formalities as she answers, “where are you, Bud?”

“I’m here. Sorry I’m late. Alison called, and...” he trails off, no doubt sensing her usual lack of interest in whatever drama his girlfriend has concocted. While she’s happy for him and even more so for Frankie, Grace finds the ‘Weird Pregnancy Show’ to be one best experienced in moderation. 

“Never mind,” he says. “Do you want me to come and help-”

She’s cuts him off while rushing to the door. “No, I can manage,” she replies, unwilling to waste time waiting for him to come to her. While she may have difficulty retrieving shoes from under beds or opening particularly tough jars with her arthritic wrist, she’s still able to carry her own luggage. Aging might well be a total bitch, but she can handle this part of it.

“I’ll be there soon,” says Grace, reaching for her things. Before she opens the door she takes a look around, noticing both the perfect order and sensing the feeling of loneliness. Whatever awaits her in Santa Fe, she can’t wait to return with Frankie so they can transform this house back into a home. Hell, if Frankie insists she’ll even perform the reiki space cleansing herself. 

*********

Grace and Bud spend the first part of their journey engaged in pointless conversation and uncomfortable silences. When she finally receives the long-awaited call from Frankie, her relief and joy are short lived. Whatever medication they have her on may well leave Frankie ‘delightful and chatty’, but it does nothing to alleviate Grace’s concerns with much-needed answers and explanations. About a third of the way to Santa Fe she gives up and instructs the patient to go to sleep, ending the exchange with an inadequate, if heartfelt, “good night”. Given the lack of privacy, she hasn’t been able to ask the one question she really wants an answer to - ‘ _are you coming home for me?’_

“Your mother’s not making much sense,” she says, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. Her frustration and tiredness almost makes her blurt out, ‘ _but that’s hardly news.’_ Sometimes she thinks her tongue works from muscle memory alone, the words ready to spill out before her brain exerts control. 

“And we both know she wouldn’t explain it to me,” he replies. “I guess she took my last enmeshment speech to heart.” Grace hears him draw a deep breath and looks over just as he releases it. His hands are gripping the steering wheel and his face is drawn into a frown.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine, Bud,” she says, in an attempt to convince them both. “When we arrive tomorrow we’ll get some answers.”  

He nods his head but fails to relax. Not for the first time she thinks his tension has less to do with Frankie’s condition, and more to do with having to endure hours trapped in a car with her. It’s not like they’ve ever spent much time together on their own.

She shifts in her seat trying to get more comfortable, reluctant to admit out loud that sitting in the car for hours is playing havoc with her knees. As the silence crosses over into awkwardness, Grace desperately searches for something to talk about. Regardless of whether anything happens with Frankie, she knows having a better relationship with Bud and Coyote would make her best friend happy.

She clears her throat and says, “I know someone who’d insist on a game of Regional Food Master to liven up this drive.” As a topic of conversation it’s pretty safe, though essentially meaningless.

“Well, it _is_  her ultimate road trip game,” Bud replies.

“A few weeks before Frankie left we drove to the Art Crawl Experience in Anaheim and-.”

“Really?”

She quirks an eyebrow and continues, “her idea. Obviously.”

“Of course.” 

“In the end we hardly saw any art or performers. She made me stop at so many gas stations along the way it took us almost four hours to get to there.” Grace allows herself a small smile. She neglects to tell Bud that besides her attempts to find local food products, Frankie insisted on taking detours to two sex shops. ‘ _Live a little, Grace. Consider it market research.’_ Unfortunately, when all you can think about is going down on your soon-to-be absent best friend, market research is more like an exercise in despair. 

“We drove to New Haven about seventeen years ago. My parents decided Coyote and I needed to visit Yale to feel the spirit of the Yippie Movement.” 

She watches as he removes his right hand from the steering wheel and starts massaging his neck. 

“I remember that trip.“ Grace sighs and then continues, “Robert was agitated the entire time Sol was gone, complaining about all the extra work he had to do.” Even though she’s forgiven them both, she still tenses at the reminder of betrayal she shares with Frankie. 

Several seconds pass and she relaxes a little when he ignores the large pink elephant in the car. She’s even more relieved when he returns his hand to the steering wheel.

“Well it took twice as long as it should have because Mom insisted on playing Regional Food Master,” he says, shaking his head. “The trip ended up being more about who could find the most local snacks.” He laughs. “Naturally, she won. No one else spotted the Kimmie Candy in Las Vegas.” 

“She does love their ChocoRocks,” says Grace, and they share a smile. She gazes back at the freeway, starting to feel like maybe they’ve reached some common ground. 

“I never realised how competitive she was until we lived together.“ She pauses and rubs her temples. “We played Cranium with Mallory and Brianna one night,” she says, placing her hands back in her lap. “It did not end well.” 

“Do I want to know the details?”

“Probably not,” she replies. “Long story, short. The pot was more a hindrance than a help.”

“That sounds familiar.”

“You know, stoned or not, she would never let me teach her chess,” says Grace with a shrug. “She accused me of supporting ‘blatant patriarchy’.”

“Yeah, the idea of the king being the most important piece never appealed to her.”

Grace nods and says, “It’s a shame, though. I haven’t played in such a long time.”

“I like chess. Maybe we could play sometime?”

She glances across at him and their eyes meet briefly before he focuses intently on the road.

“I’d really like that, Bud,” she says quietly.

**********

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a. I solemnly swear Frankie is in the next chapter. Clearly they are end game in this fic.  
> b. I just felt it was important for Grace to start to build a better relationship with Frankie’s kids. Frankie is “like a Mom” to Brianna and I wanted Grace to have *something* with Bud.  
> c. If you got this far, thanks for reading!


End file.
